


Red Linoleum

by heyheylove



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, F/F, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of attempted suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 11:20:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10740669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyheylove/pseuds/heyheylove
Summary: The linoleum is stained red.





	Red Linoleum

**Author's Note:**

> Please please please read the tags for warnings and possible triggers. And I'm sorry for this, I was in a mood and I love to project my feelings onto fictional characters. Its sad but enjoy as best as you can.

The linoleum is stained red.

Small puddles where the thick liquid had once pooled and stayed for awhile now made sloppy circles of varying shades of faded red.

It had been years and the stains still stubbornly held their place in the linoleum on the floor of the small kitchen in their apartment. 

The same faded red colors that covered the kitchen also crafted itself in the cracks of the tiles on the bathroom floor. 

The smell of the metal had long disappeared from the rooms but the memory was as present as the stains that the substance left.

Other memories were left there too, better ones, ones that smelled and tasted better. Memories that didn't leave a permanent mark of the shared apartment floors. Ones that tasted sweet and made her regret ever wanting to create the stains that taunted her now. 

But those memories made her think of the bad ones. Ones where she felt like demons were crawling through her bloodstream and infecting her brain, her thoughts. Memories of the nights where she didn't feel anything but lonely, where apathy was her best friend and sadness was a wish, just so she could stop feeling numb. The ones where she cried all night. The one when her heart burst open and the blood spill out through her wrists.

The one time she stained the linoleum red.

It wouldn't have stained if it wasn't left there so long. If Connie hadn't decided to come home from work early. If she didn't stay the night in the hospital to make sure that the stitches weren't cut open. If the blood wasn't left there for so long. 

When they got home the blood was stuck to the kitchen floor. The bathroom had been plagued with the red stains before then, from the smaller cuts that now remained as scars on her wrists and thighs. The kitchen stains were fresh then, the blood still crusted on the floor as Connie rushed her past it whispering things like, "Don't worry, South. I'll get that cleaned up right now, how about you take a nap, yeah?" And, "I love you so much, you know that, right?" And more sickly sweet and rushed things that South paid no mind to as she stared at the knife that was left on the floor and felt the blood flow through her wrist- not out of this time. 

She didn't care for that memory much. The thick scars that made themselves home right below her palms were a reminder of that memory. Connie didn't talk about it anymore. Neither of them did. They didn't have to, not when Connie bought a new mat to put on the kitchen. Not when the mess her body made was so neatly covered up. Why talk about what's already over? Or what she could talk to her therapist about? The therapist that Connie made her get after a week. The one that she has had for three years now. The one that tells her that they should talk about more things even though South has said she doesn't want to. But eventually they would have to. She knew that. She knows that still.

"South." Connie called, carrying a box from the bedroom. She looked at what South was staring at and quickly averted her eyes. "These boxes won't carry themselves you know." She tried to joke, forcing a smile that quickly fell when she ducked her head and left the room. 

Connie wanted to talk about it. She tried to many times over the years, and especially after the scars had been created, even before then too. She would ask how she felt. South always avoided the question or ignored her concern. A wall that she had built to stop the bad thoughts had only ended up destroying her relationships, making her push people away. Except for Connie. She dealt with the wall, slowly chipped away at its structure so that she could get through. She didn't. Still hasn't. But she still tries. 

But South tried to stop her, always. Lying about how she felt or what she was thinking, getting angry at her concern or starting fights just to avoid answering the hard but perceived to be easy question, 'how are you?' 

She continued to stand there in the kitchen, the mat discarded in a box somewhere, staring at the almost pink linoleum and replaying that night over and over in her head.

Connie left for work. Warm bed. Clock said noon. She was hungry. Couldn't get out of bed. Finally got out at 2. Wanted a sandwich. Not enough energy to make a sandwich. Cereal instead. She put cereal bowl in the sink. Knife left in drying rack. Grabbed knife. Blurry. Blurry. Blurry. Red. Light. More red. Screaming. Connie. Crying. Connie crying. Hospital. Blurry. Home. Blurry. Blurryblurryblurry.

The night was played in short clips with a foggy window filter. Blurry.

Red linoleum. Supposed to be white. Blurry. Blurry red linoleum.

“South…” Connie whispered. South looked at her- she was blurry too. Her face was wet, so was Connie's. “It's okay, baby.” Connie whispered in Souths ear as she hugged her. 

They talked about everything in their new house. Feelings. Thoughts. Scars. That night. They talked about it all.

They didn't decorate the new house with red. South liked that. Their new kitchen didn't need a mat. Their new kitchen didn't make her vision blurry or her wrists itch. 

The new linoleum isn't red.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading my mess. Comments and kudos are always appreciated! You can find me on [tumblr](http://chaoticrooster.tumblr.com/) if you would like to chit chat or maybe even request a fic if thts your jam. And if you are thinking about harming yourself in anyway please go [here](https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/#) and call this number. I love you and I hope you love you too.


End file.
